


Aftershocks and Echoes

by Wordsmith_Storyweaver



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen, Season 3 Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordsmith_Storyweaver/pseuds/Wordsmith_Storyweaver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The companion piece to "Never Neverland", "Aftershocks and Echoes" will focus on what happened in Storybrooke while the royals were in Neverland trying to rescue Henry from the god Pan. Additionally, we will follow Mulan, Aurora, and Phillip as they attempt to rebuild their kingdom, and as they help save the life of an injured stranger from another land.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Toil and Trouble

On October 22, 2012, the National Weather Service recorded the formation of a tropical wave in the western Atlantic Ocean; six hours later, the wave was upgraded to the status of a tropical storm and assigned a name. According to some, the hyrdometeorological event known as Hurricane Sandy was the result of global climate change.   
They would be wrong.  
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“Mother Superior?” Nova calls out with her typical timidity, knocking gently on the door to the other fairy’s office. Despite having been free of the curse for almost six months now, only some of the nuns have taken back their old names. With very little fairy dust and no new wands available to them, there isn’t much call for fairy godmothers in Storybrooke. The one glaring exception to this is Blue—the Ruel Ghorm; despite having her very own wand and powers back, she has continued to act and be addressed as the leader of the religious community. All the fairies have questioned it of course, but no one has been brave enough to actually ask her themselves.

Actually, everyone’s lack of bravery is why Nova is here in the first place. They had all… Felt something not too long ago. Everyone knows that magic is usable again, but this Something was along the lines of a magical earthquake or an explosion. No one else had been courageous enough to speak to Blue about it, so she’d sort of elected herself. When the other fairy doesn’t answer, she opens the door carefully. When she finally looks in, she doesn’t see any sign of the Mother Superior. Until she looks down at the floor, that is. The red-headed nun is unconscious, blood coming out of her nose and ears. “Somebody help! Call an ambulance, now!”

The small group of nuns who had trailed her down the hall skitters away like frightened mice, but hopefully one of them has enough brain power to listen to her. She scolds herself for her unkind thoughts about her fellow fairies while she checks for a pulse—faint, but steady—and any injuries. It’s a long few minutes before she can hear the sounds of a siren. Thankfully, whatever caused the bleeding seems to have stopped, but Blue still hasn’t regained consciousness by the time that the paramedics arrive. They wrap a brace around the fallen fairy’s neck, just in case, and quickly have her strapped to a gurney. Nova elects herself to ride with Mother Superior to the hospital, dutifully following the orders she’s given to stay back so that the nurses can work. It isn’t until they are unloading her that Blue manages to wake up a little bit. Her gaze zeroes in on Nova, her eyes frantic and then relieved at the sight of one of her fairies. She gets out two words before the hospital staff separates them. “Summon. Council.”


	2. Chapter 1: Truth and Consequences

“So let me get this straight: we just narrowly avoided a magical catastrophe, then we had two portals opened up in very, very close proximity to each other, and now you want to put a protection spell around the entire town. Need I remind any of you just how stupid and dangerous all of this is? No offense, sister.” Leave it to Grumpy to be the bludgeoning voice of reason in a group of fairy tale characters, but Belle places a comforting hand on his shoulder to assure him that she doesn’t take his statement personally. She had actually been on her way to the convent when the ambulance carrying the Blue Fairy had pulled up in front of the hospital. Seeing a frantic Nova start running down the street, she had quickly followed the upset nun and then, after speaking with her, helped her locate all of the members of Snow White and Prince Charming’s war council: Granny, Red, Jiminy, Grumpy, and Ghepetto (who had declined the invitation). Belle had stayed because, as Blue informed her, Rumplestiltkin and the royal family had practically elected her as their representative by entrusting her with the cloaking spell.

Blue manages to glare quite menacingly for being in a hospital gown and hooked up to an iv. “I am well aware of the risks, Grumpy, but we have to take into account that the Dark One knows what he’s doing. If he believes that the town will be in enough danger to warrant a protective barrier, then I say we should trust his instincts.”

“Well, we all know that magic comes with a price, but what kind of threat are we talking about here?” Granny pats the butt of her crossbow impatiently, her surliness at least attributable to having been a werewolf for a great deal of her life.

The fairy looks uncomfortable, clearly torn about revealing too much about magic to beings who have no right to mystical secrets and no Ability to speak of. “In our world, magic was common, so this wasn’t an issue that we dealt with on a regular basis. But the kind of spells that have been used here might as well be nuclear bombs! In a world like this, the effects are going to be magnified no matter what, but basically the more magic or spells that get used in a particular area, the more it upsets the balance of things on that plane. Think of the world as a glass of water—if you add water to the glass, drop by drop, what happens?”

“The water gets displaced.” Everyone turns to look at Dr. Whale, who is now standing in the doorway to the hospital room. “You have the water level rising, of course, but you also have the initial creation of waves—a ripple effect.”

“Exactly, doctor. And the bigger the drops of water, the more violent and the more destructive those waves will be. That’s when everything is normal and magic is a part of the land. I can’t predict what form the magical ripples will take, but--”

Whale clears his throat to interrupt the fairy yet again. “Well, as it turns out you won’t need to predict it, Mother Superior. The National Weather Service just broadcasted a special announcement on all emergency frequencies; they’ve been tracking a possible storm for the last six hours and finally decided to give it a name. Tropical Storm Sandy, they’re calling it, and I’ll give you three guesses as to where they think it’s headed.”

No one bothers to, because twenty-eight years living on the east coast of the United States has given them all the information they need. Despite the fact that it’s entirely too late in the season, and no one is prepared for it, a very large storm is in all likelihood headed their way. Only this time, it seems like magic is planning on making more than just the town of Storybrooke pay its price.

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October 23, 2012

Although it feels strange, Belle lets everyone into the shop with her. Rumple had left clear instructions on the small roll of parchment, but nearly all the ingredients necessary are here. Grumpy had placed a call to each of the other dwarves when it became clear that fairy dust mined in Storybrooke itself would be necessary. All seven of them and Anton are down there now, mining a useable seam and then working on the refining process to get a big enough batch for the spell despite the fact that it’s only 6 am. Ruby stands back a bit, watching as Belle starts the burners and checks the equipment. “This looks a lot like the chemistry lab at the high school.”

“I wouldn’t know, but I’m sure you’re right. Rumple told me that for people who don’t have their own magic, this is how they normally create spells and potions. He said that he learned how to do things this way in case his powers ever failed him.” She sniffles just a bit, looking away from her friend and back to the beakers and crucibles. Ruby may not approve of her choice in men, but she can tell that something is bothering the normally calm librarian. She places a hand on the other woman’s shoulder.

“I know you haven’t slept at all since last night—wolf thing. Would you like to talk about it and tell me what’s wrong?” She expects Belle to cry, but she isn’t prepared for the heaving sobs that have her practically collapsing onto the floor. Ruby scents grief and longing, but also a sharp, disconcerting amount of despair. Whatever happened, Belle’s belief, her hope, has been nearly shattered in the past 24 hours. The wolf in her wants to howl and keen, desperate to shake the emotions that Belle’s pheromones are pressing onto her; packs share their feelings, so that when one of their number is injured or grieving, all of the family carries the burden to help the hurt one become whole faster. Having been alone for most of her life, her instincts are there, but her human half has no clue what to do except hold onto her friend.

Thankfully, the tale spills from Belle’s lips without any prompting once her weeping slows. She’s always wanted to be a hero, and more than that she wants to prove to everyone that she and Rumple belong together, that they are a family. Being left behind makes her feel like her love for him and for Henry are not as real, not as important. But then hearing that Mr. Gold doesn’t plan on returning… She feels like she’s been denied her chance for a happy ending because she’s not the only family he has. He fears that death waits for him wherever they’ve gone, and instead of taking her with him and spending his last moments with her—however few they may be—he removes the choice from her hands, giving her a mission and a task that she cannot refuse. Ruby cannot stop the low growl that rumbles through her chest at the conflicted mess her friend’s boyfriend left behind him, although, if her nose is correct, that’s not the only thing Belle is going to be worried about in the coming months.

“Well, we’re here now, and he gave us a town to protect, right? So, why don’t you read off the ingredients one at a time, and I’ll fetch them for you.” She looks up carefully into Belle’s teary eyes, smiling ridiculously at her own stupid joke. Ruby helps her up and immediately goes to the cabinet at the back of the workroom, carefully reading the labels and gathering the components necessary. It isn’t long before focusing on the task at hand has Belle completely distracted from her worries and negative thoughts. In two hours’ time, everything is added to the potion and ready, except for the fairy dust.

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“But Mother Superior, we don’t know what the effects will be! There’s a storm already on the way, probably headed toward this town! We need to start warning people, explaining what could happen if anyone is caught outside, gathering everyone into one, secure location!”

“Enough, Nova! We are fairies—it is not our job to interfere unnecessarily in the lives of--”

“Unnecessarily?! Are you even listening to yourself, Blue? We interfere constantly in the lives of mortals! We owe it to the people of Storybrooke to protect them while their leaders are gone!” Despite still being in the hospital at Dr. Whale’s insistence, the Mother Superior uses her magic to slam the door shut and silence the other fairy's voice. The lights and machines around them flicker and make distressed beeping noises.

“I expect my orders to be unquestioningly obeyed, little Godmother. Belle must cast the protection spell; our fate in this land may well depend upon it. This plan has been in place nearly as long as you have been a fairy, and I will not have your simpering, self-righteous hand-wringing get in the way. You will NOT speak of this to the other fairies, and you most certainly will not share your fears with any of the townspeople. Have I made myself clear, Nova?”


	3. How to Save a Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The chapters will typically switch off between Storybrooke and the Enchanted Forest.

Green fire burns inside his mind, as if the muzzle flare sparked an inferno inside the portal vortex. Neal alternately feels like he’s drowning in boiling water and being asphyxiated in a hot, dry desert pyre; both sensations are inescapable, tied down as he is by his own body as surely as if it were already his coffin. Despite the swirling, foggy uncertainty of where he is in his mind, there is one constant: agony.

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“We have no time for this Aurora! We don’t even know if this man has been in the Netherworld, so trying to contact him is pointless! Give him the potion to check his fever, and then I need you to help Mulan hold him. He’s fighting us as it is, so saving his lung is not going to be pretty.” Whatever kind of weapon injured him, part of it must either be slow-working or still inside him. The three of them had managed to move him with little difficulty onto a liter, but when they were bringing him into the castle one of the poles had slipped from a servant’s hand, causing the man to bolt upright and shriek once in pain as blood began hissing and wheezing up out of the wound in time with his breaths. The nearest hedge witch or wizard had been summoned, but Phillip knows enough of war wounds to understand that this man is all too quickly approaching death. He sends a hasty prayer to the god of healing for strength and sure hands and then one to the gods of wisdom and war in thanks for having given him the knowledge he needs to save this life.

He searches through his travelling gear for his kit of medicinal herbs, potions, and tools. Mulan curses soundly in her native tongue, causing Phillip to smile a bit despite the grim circumstances. His warrior friend had once said that swearing before royalty was considered taboo where she came from, and he had convinced her that so long as he couldn’t comprehend the words then she should feel free to do so. However, that was before he, and then Aurora also, had begun to pick up her language; he and his fiancé still hadn’t the heart to tell her that they could understand most of what she was saying. Her oath would have the man and his ancestors condemned to reincarnations as goats for the next several lifetimes for all the “trouble” he is causing them—a fate that he wouldn’t wish on anyone, let alone a man who is clearly suffering and not in his right mind.

Phillip's hands are steady as he disinfects his instruments and the hollowed reed that will help the man to breathe, gods willing. Aurora calmly assumes her position, anchoring the man’s legs, but the set of her jaw and the thin line of her lips are the only indicators that she isn’t happy to be doing so. Seeing anyone injured has always bothered her, but with her parents still missing and their people still scattered to the winds she has had to leave behind the life and mind-set of a sheltered princess. Mulan ties the man’s wrists down away from his body before taking a hold of his shoulders. The hissing and spitting of blood from the man’s chest continues, but the potion has done its work, and he is not actively fighting them any longer. Phillip places a hand around the wound, holding the reed in his right hand. “On three, ladies. One, two, three!”

Swift and accurate, he plunges the tube through the wound track. After a jolt through his body, the man takes a deep breath through his mouth. Air whistles down his throat and through the hollow reed—his lung no longer in danger of collapsing. With the ladies’ help, Phillip manages to wrap bandages around the tube and over the man’s torso, anchoring everything in place. Provided they can keep him still and sedated until the healer arrives, the stranger should live.

Several hours later, after seeing the hedge witch settled in comfortable quarters near her patient, Phillip goes down toward the kitchen in search of something to eat. Mulan meets him at the doorway with a grim look and a goblet of wine. “His clothes… They remind me of what Snow White and her daughter wore after they had come through the portal with the wraith. They gave us no indication that they were planning on coming back or that anyone else would be able to find a way here. Magic is supposed to be dying in this land, and portals should be non-existent. What is going on?”

“Until that man wakes up and is healed we can’t question him; so arguing is useless. Phillip knows just as little as you or I. Demanding answers from him won’t lead to anything conclusive. I need to spend more time in the Netherworld.”

“No!” The warriors shout at Aurora in unison. Her chin is set in an all too familiar stubborn angle.

“Neither of you can stop me, unless you plan on keeping me awake for days; in which case, once I do fall asleep, it will be even easier for me to enter the Netherworld and stay for much longer than either of you would like. So, I can go on short trips with you both watching in case of danger, or I can go anyway.”

Mulan looks cautiously over at Phillip before kneeling at Aurora’s feet and taking her hands. “ _Qin ai de_ , we almost lost you when you and I went to save Phillip from the Wastelands. To lose you to the Netherworld does not bear contemplating; we need answers—our people need answers—but there is a line between self-sacrifice and self-harm that you are perilously close to crossing.”

“ _Meili de zhanshi_ is right, Aurora. We can talk about all of this tomorrow and discuss your plan in detail with open minds. It’s been a long day, and I for one would like to forget for a few hours about having to save a man’s life by stabbing him in the chest. So… shall we?” He offers an arm to Mulan to help her rise from the floor, and they both offer a hand to the princess. She pierces them both with a warning gaze, letting them know that their orchestrated stalling tactic is not appreciated. But rather than fight them, she takes one of their hands in each of hers. Instead of sulking, she puts on an alluring smile and leads both of them along the hallways and up the stairs to their chambers. Feigning a yawn and sleepiness when they dismiss their servants and bid the guards goodnight, Aurora turns her back to Mulan and sweeps her hair over her shoulder, then beckons to Phillip and begins working at the fastenings of his breastplate. It’s probably an odd looking little circle, but they wouldn’t have it any other way; Phillip works on unbuckling Mulan’s armor, which is much more intricate than his own, although both of them agree that Aurora’s corsets take the most work and effort to unravel.

The nightly ritual developed on their journey back from the Wastelands, after Phillip’s soul had been redeemed. It hadn’t taken long for all of them to realize the love that had blossomed between the three of them—forged first between Phillip and Aurora by courtship, then Mulan and Phillip in battle, and then the sleeping princess and the maiden warrior as they sought to save a man they both would die for—would never be complete if one of them were gone. There was no jealousy, no shame in the decision—just True and honest love, shared equally by all. Undressing and caring for the armor and weapons became a way to show their devotion in the most basic and humble of ways. The only downside as far as Aurora was concerned was that it meant she was usually the first one naked, a shyness that the other two refused to let her cling to for long. But tonight it served her purposes, crawling into their bed before the others and pretending drowsiness during the last of the disrobing process. It wasn’t long though until Mulan crawled in beside her, placing a gentle kiss on her lips before hitching a leg over Aurora’s and placing a hand on her hip. Phillip was last, kissing them both once on the shoulder before fitting his chest along Mulan’s back and falling fast asleep.

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Neal hears the sound of the ocean and feels a warm, wet heaviness to the air that is nothing like Storybrooke, Maine. _That’s because you are far, far away from there._

He opens his eyes and tries to rise, but fiery pain shoots through his chest and he falls back down. He looks around more carefully, noticing several things as he does: the bed he’s lying on is in the middle of a room that has no walls, everything open to the tropical breeze; he is indeed on a beach somewhere, but he’s fairly certain that it’s no place he’s ever been before; and a gorgeous woman with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes is watching over him. She moves to fill a cup of water for him and helps him drink. He feels weak, achy, and desperately thirsty, but as soon as he can, he tries talking.

“Who are you? Where am I?” At least, this is what he tries to say. His breath wheezes strangely, as if he’s suddenly developed the lungs of a fifty-year-old, two-pack-a-day smoker. The woman’s lips turn down in a frown, but she doesn’t speak; instead, he hears a voice inside his head as she points to herself. _It is no use speaking here. I have no voice, and because of your injuries, neither do you. It is easier this way, little one; mind to mind, yes?_

He looks at her, wondering which question to ask first. A flash of something like sorrow and regret pass over her features before he hears her again. _Ah, yes! Choice…such a difficult and capricious thing sometimes. Who I am is not important, little one, nor where you are. You are safe, and all this is a dream. Your body is tired, resting because of the great harm done to it by your lover’s bullet and then falling through a portal. You are safe from her and with people who are helping you to heal and to recover your strength. And yes, I can hear your thoughts just as if you were speaking them. Tell me, little one, what is the last thing you remember?_

She places her hand on his forehead in what he assumes must be a comforting gesture, but he can’t remember a time when touch was anything good. Except for Emma and then Tamara. _The women. Naturally you would recall them first. They are both alive, but they have travelled away from the land where you parted. Your lover stole something precious, and your past seeks after her to retrieve it. All you need know for now is that all those you love are alive and well at the moment; nor will you be able to reach them or be of any help, unless you listen to me and to those who are trying to help you. Enough. Rest now—sleep and heal, little one._

The woman’s face becomes blurry and even more indistinct while Neal fights the heaviness of his eyes and his body. The soft shushing of the gentle wind and the whispering of the water against the sands conspire against him, pressing a soothing lullaby in his ears that he cannot ignore. A comforting darkness blankets his mind, and for the present, he knows no more.


End file.
